Akitsu Shouga dreamed.

  The dream was quiet, colorless, and heavy—like a memory that refused to fade.

  He was older than he should have been, yet younger than he remembered. His hands were rough, his clothes thin. A plastic bag rustled softly as he walked along the side of a road far from home—if home was even the right word.

  Cars passed by without slowing.

  Akitsu bent down and picked up a crushed bottle, rinsed white by the sun. He dropped it into the bag. Crack. Rustle.

  “…One more,” he muttered to himself.

  He walked farther, eyes down, scanning for scraps. That was when he saw them.

  On the other side of a narrow alleyway—his classmates.

  They were laughing. Wearing clean uniforms. Carrying bags filled with books and convenience-store snacks. Someone said his name, not loudly, but enough.

  Akitsu froze.

  “…Isn’t that—”

  He turned away instantly.

  “No,” he whispered, more to himself than to them.

  He didn’t look back.

  Instead, he walked toward the riverbank, where the city noise softened and the air smelled faintly of wet stone. The water reflected dim streetlights, rippling gently. It was peaceful here. Always was.

  Akitsu stood at the edge, staring at the current.

  “…It’s happening tonight,” he said quietly.

  The river didn’t answer.

  “I’ll send her to the adoption center,” he continued, voice steady but hollow. “She’ll eat every day. She’ll have a bed. That’s… better.”

  His reflection wavered.

  “…I can’t give her that.”

  The sky darkened as he walked back.

  By the time he returned to the alleyway, night had swallowed the city. Cardboard walls leaned against brick. A tarp fluttered faintly.

  There—on the makeshift bed he had built—his sister slept.

  Aki.

  She was curled on her side, clutching a frayed blanket. Her breathing was soft, uneven. Dirt smudged her cheek, but she was smiling faintly, lost in sleep.

  Akitsu crouched beside her.

  “…Hey,” he whispered, though he knew she wouldn’t wake. “You always sleep like this.”

  He brushed her hair back gently.

  “You said you wanted to see the ocean someday,” he murmured. “You said it was blue like the sky.”

  His throat tightened.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Carefully, he lifted her into his arms. She stirred, but didn’t wake. She felt lighter than she should have.

  Too light.

  He walked.

  The adoption center lights were still on.

  A man stood outside, hands in his pockets. When he saw Akitsu, he straightened.

  “You’re finally here,” the man said. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

  Akitsu held Aki closer. “…Take good care of her.”

  The man nodded. “I will.”

  He took her gently, adjusting the blanket. Aki stirred, murmuring something unintelligible.

  Akitsu forced himself to smile.

  “Be good,” he whispered. “Okay?”

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  The man turned and carried her inside.

  Akitsu raised his hand.

  He waved.

  Tears blurred his vision as the door closed.

  “…Goodbye.”

  —

  Akitsu Shouga woke up.

  His eyes snapped open in the early morning darkness, long before the sun rose.

  His chest hurt.

  He sat up abruptly, breath uneven, and pressed a hand to his face.

  “…That dream again.”

  His cheeks were wet.

  Akitsu stood quietly and stepped out of the ruined house, careful not to wake Kael. The forest was cool and dim, mist drifting low to the ground.

  Seraphine Orion floated nearby, watching silently.

  Akitsu didn’t say anything.

  He searched the forest methodically, gathering wild berries and eventually finding a ripe papaya nestled among fallen leaves.

  “…This’ll do,” he murmured.

  He returned to the ruin and began preparing breakfast, slicing fruit carefully, boiling water, moving with practiced efficiency.

  Seraphine drifted closer, now in her small white kitsune form.

  “…What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

  Akitsu blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “You were crying,” she said. “While you slept.”

  He froze for a moment.

  “…Was I?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked away. “Must’ve been a bad dream.”

  Seraphine studied him. “…You won’t tell me, will you?”

  Akitsu smiled faintly. “You already know the answer.”

  She sighed quietly. “I do.”

  They ate in silence.

  When Kael Ardent woke, Akitsu handed him breakfast without comment.

  “…Morning,” Kael said, yawning. “You’re up early.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  Kael ate, oblivious.

  They packed up and left shortly after.

  As they walked, a family of lemmings scurried across their path, tiny paws pattering over stone.

  Kael laughed softly. “Did you see that?”

  Akitsu nodded. “They’re organized.”

  After a while, the forest opened into a clearing.

  A lake lay before them—crystal clear, surrounded by thick trees and bushes. Ducks and ducklings glided across its surface peacefully.

  Kael stepped closer. “…This place is beautiful.”

  Akitsu frowned slightly. “Something feels off.”

  Kael crouched near the edge. “You worry too much.”

  He stood, stretched, then grinned. “I’m going in.”

  “Wait—”

  Kael jumped.

  The water swallowed him instantly.

  “…Kael?” Akitsu stepped forward.

  There was no splash. No ripple.

  “…Kael!” Seraphine cried.

  Kael sank.

  Even as he thrashed, he was pulled downward, as if the lake itself rejected him.

  “I—can’t—!” Kael gasped.

  Akitsu ran and dove in after him.

  The water was freezing.

  And endless.

  No matter how he kicked, he sank.

  Seraphine screamed and summoned vines, but the moment they touched the water, they disintegrated.

  “…Akitsu!!”

  His lungs burned.

  His vision dimmed.

  So this is how it ends, he thought.

  The world went dark.